


Three Stories (The Finished Remix)

by elfiepike



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: jentfic_remix, M/M, Poetry, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-13
Updated: 2011-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfiepike/pseuds/elfiepike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ghost should know where it came from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Stories (The Finished Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unfinished Fairy Tale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/276457) by [ltgmars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ltgmars/pseuds/ltgmars). 



> thanks to mars for writing something so interesting to work with, and to kino and aes (and one million other people) for listening to me complain. a significant percentage of text is found originally in mars' fic.
> 
> and thanks also to mumblemutter, for giving me the css code to make this postable to ao3! (please note that if you aren't using the work skin for this, it might not appear the way it should.)
> 
> originally posted [here](http://jentfic-remix.livejournal.com/74406.html).

**Freeloader**

A ghost should know  
where it came from but  
all he has for history is  
this house  
brick and mortar and  
ephemeral memories like 

                        a series of books  
            losing words  
one page at a time.

The man who lives in the house asks, "Aren't you lonely?" but the ghost (Kazunari,   
his name is Kazunari: that is one more thing he has) doesn't know what to say, lonely

how could he be lonely?  
He was alone before, alone with the trailing vines,  
wrapped up in the dust and soft  
inside the slowly sinking couch cushions.  
The bits of him that think were sometimes glitter in the air  
sometimes shadows on the ground  
until Ohno moved in.

-

Ohno makes tea for two every time, though Kazunari's grows cold in his cup. Ohno justifies  
this waste: "Steam is like the ghost of tea, isn't it?"

            If Kazunari concentrates into one space enough to smell the tea  
            the endothermic nature of his existence will dispel the steam.

He compromises, hovers around Ohno's shoulders, settles just slightly  
under Ohno's skin. Ohno might shiver but  
he never asks Kazunari to move, only  
asks him questions he cannot answer:  
Isn't Kazu lonely?

 _What about you_ , he counters.  _Don't you miss them._  
The ghost knows  
where Ohno came from: Tokyo,  
a mother, a father, a sister, a grandfather  
who used to own  
this house with its  
columns and creeping vines  
and its ghost, solitary and scattered.

It was Ohno's memories that had drawn Kazunari back together.  
Ohno's memories are small and warm,  
iron and red light and electricity. It is the best feeling in the world  
when Ohno  
remembers.

"Don't you know by now?" Ohno asked; another impossible question

"Together  
            we fill up  
                        every  
                                    book."

  
**STATUS: 100%**   


137:14:06:12.023

The machine sits on the windowsill, the wood  
creaking beneath its metal and plastic frame.  
It sits there to best observe and consider  
the problem of its programming.

How long has it been snowing?

It was spring when the machine was activated  
and given its mission: inspire Ohno Satoshi.

It has developed something like tunnel vision  
despite everything hardwired into its   
            nature  
it should be constantly vigilant, constantly  
observant, constant.

Instead, it is observant of only one thing:  
Ohno Satoshi.

It has logged nine hundred fifty nine hours  
forty six point oh four three seconds of  
Ohno Satoshi sleeping and can conclude with  
strong statistical analysis that Ohno Satoshi  
does not quite snore but nonetheless breathes  
deeply, intently, while sleeping - as if he  
imagines he will never be able to breathe again.  
As if he, while sleeping, is dreaming only of  
keeping his body going until he wakes up. As if  
the most active thing he will ever do  
is sleep and breathe.

Is Ohno Satoshi only passionate about something  
that is, by nature, unconscious?

How long has it been snowing: it was not snowing  
yesterday; while Ohno Satoshi was awake,  
the machine made a note that it was cold enough  
for a muffler but not  
for ear muffs. The sky was clear and pale, but  
they did not leave the house for longer than  
to walk to the mailbox and back.

When Ohno Satoshi sleeps, the machine considers  
the problem of its programming:

It is unaware of what will signal the completion  
of its purpose. It noted in its logs the first  
time it was aware of the issue, but it remains  
unresolved:

If its purpose is to inspire, at what point   
will its programming be satisfied that  
Ohno Satoshi is inspired?

            3:14:27.233

            Observation: Ohno Satoshi is something of a recluse  
            who has rejected most forms of technology and  
            spends most of his time doing nothing productive  
            at all.

            28:10:55.670

            Observation: Ohno Satoshi  
            is in need of companionship as much as  
            inspiration. Conversation:

            OHNO: Aren't you lonely  
            - I cannot feel lonely. Besides, I have you.

            67:19:34.098

            Observation: Ohno Satoshi is better suited to  
            art; he draws constantly. His explanation as to why  
            he desires to be a writer is illogical; note: attempting  
            to rewrite code for persuasion.

            67:20:34.097 bug report: attempt to rewrite code failed.  
            67:21:35.003 bug report: attempt to rewrite code failed.  
            67:22:34.964 bug report: attempt to rewrite code failed.  
            67:23:35.026 LOG: protocols of mission successfully  
            rewritten.

138:24:56.785

It has been snowing for three hours, seven minutes,   
twenty-eight point eight seven seven seconds.  
Ohno Satoshi draws every day. At its request  
he draws out his dreams: they almost make  
a story, complete and impossible.

The machine has clearly achieved its purpose.  
Bug report: its emotional capacities are meant  
only for compassion with its subjects but  
it does not want to leave Ohno Satoshi  
alone just yet. It cannot want and yet it

LOG: COMPLETE.

  


**Unfinished**  


A house needs a frame   
                                      like a person needs a body                    and  
                                                                                              it   
                                                                                                           i   s          
                                                                                                             a            p  
                                                                                                                              u        z       z  
                                                                                                                                      l                 e .

                       Sometimes he's lonely  
                                because that's  human  
                                the edges aren't              smooth :   
                                loneliness     rests       inside  
       right up next to  love  
interlocking, their shapes  
                                            joined together  
                                                                                                                           the seam is invisible

 

                                                                                   _I'm looking for a piece that will fit with this one._

 

There is no way to start from the border, to create a boundary for what it means to be human   
when the pieces endlessly rub up agasint each other, five thousand microscopic shapes   
constantly shifting in  focu s     u n t i l       K a z  u  n   a   r    i            r   e   a    l   i    z    e    s

the  puzzle  of    being human    is  a daily project

       he wants  
            to write his own story

 

 

_I wonder what happens here._

_Do I get to decide?_

 

            (Full size:  
             Ohno turns to him   
                                      and Kazunari  
                                             steps   into    his     lips  
                   pressed between  the shelves   
                                       and   Ohno's body  
                                                            hands       lips  
                                                                                    lips  
                                                                                           lips, tongue, teeth  
                                                                                                  lips  
                                                                              again     and  
                                                                                                 a  g  a   i    n

             he's hungry    he's desperate     he's making noises in his throat  
                                                                 he never knew he could make

             he feels human                                                            he  feels alive )

 

 

 

 

 

_come back in human form_

_become special                                     have more value than        temporary  
sources_

_a glitch                                                                with the deepest  
kinds of hopes and dreams_

_it's only happened once._

_after eleven years,_

_Kazunari steps into the doorway                                                                                          his  
hands folded over his chest_

_  
                                Under the table  
Ohno still expects                          glitter                when he lets go  
because it's Kazunari  
                                                                        he's finished his job                  he still shines._

_a                      house with                  red brick               white pillars         boisterous green  
vines that buzz with life_

_That night_

_Ohno feels warm._


End file.
